


Customer Disservice

by GambitsObsession



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Astrid is annoyed, Canon Disabled Character, F/M, First Meetings, Gen, Hiccup Is A Dork, Implied Sexual Content, Meet-Cute, Swearing, cat!Toothless, supermarket au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 04:09:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4045399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GambitsObsession/pseuds/GambitsObsession
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on real-life events in a supermarket.<br/>Astrid Hofferson was having the worst day ever... until Hiccup appeared. But whether he made it better or worse remained the question.<br/>Rated for bad language and implied sexytimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Customer Disservice

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on something that genuinely happened to a co-worker a while back - but I decided to have her read it first before posting it. She loved it, so on with the posting!
> 
> It’s obviously a ‘based on true events’ thing, not a blow-by-blow account. Mainly because Hiccstrid, but also because Astrid would not react in the perfectly professional and slightly mortified manner my colleague did… not on very little sleep and a lot of stress, anyway!
> 
> I’ve titled it ‘Customer Disservice’ but I’m not sure I like it. The only other title I could think to give it would’ve given the game away…
> 
> Cross-posted to [my tumblr](http://gambitsobsession.tumblr.com/), where I may add headcanons at a later date.

Astrid was having the worst day. It was late, she was tired, she had an exam next week to study for, and working in customer services in a busy supermarket was hell.

Especially when people had stupid complaints like “I bought this milk two weeks ago and now it's gone off, give me a refund” or wanting to exchange something the store didn't even _stock_ for something three times the price and being incapable of understanding why they couldn't.

Behind her, at the kiosk desk, Rona Thorston ('Ruff' to her friends, 'Veronica' to her mother) was rather aggressively flirting with some poor muscle-bound guy buying lottery tickets – and looking utterly terrified of her co-worker.

Astrid snorted in amusement when the big guy recoiled slightly – and left hurriedly – as Ruff handed over his change and her phone number on a scrap of receipt paper, deliberately brushing his hand with hers. Then, suddenly, it seemed her night got a _whole_ lot better.

Tall, Lean and Leather-clad was walking right towards her.

The first time she'd seen him, he'd been at the kiosk. His eyes had lingered on her a moment too long to be a mere cursory glance (not that she'd been completely innocent of the same) but she has brushed him off as some biker buying smokes (a disgusting habit – no way she'd date a guy like _that_ ). That was, until he'd finished talking to Frankie Ingerman – whose unfortunate nickname, Fishlegs, had come from that time he'd run headlong into the store's fishmonger and got a box full of sticky, slimy trout spilled down his front – and left with a couple of chocolate bars... and not one cigarette.

“We have a couple of physics classes together,” Frankie had answered when she'd asked about it, “I think he does engineering... Can't remember his name, though. At this point it seems rude to ask.”

Polite to a fault, that was Frankie. So, with no name to go on, Astrid was left only with the tight black clothing wrapped around lean muscle, and simply began referring to him as 'Tall, Lean and Leather-clad'.

She'd seen him a few more times after that and each time his eyes had strayed over her a fraction of a second longer than necessary from under floppy auburn hair. He'd gone through the checkouts with a bag of premium-brand cat food and a whole salmon at one point; he'd asked Tony (Ruff's brother, Tuff – or Anthony if his mother was yelling at him... which was often) about where some of the DIY supplies were stocked; he'd joked with Scott Jorgenson whilst leaning against a sleek, black motorcycle during Scott's break just before her shift; but there was no way she was asking _Snotlout_ for his name – she dealt with his obnoxious comments enough already.

But he'd never outright spoken to her.

Until now.

“Hey, uhh... I bought this the other day and it's not working right,” he said, one hand clenched around a small bottle with a pump top, “Well... I guess it works, it's just that the bottle doesn't: I press the top and nothing.”

His voice was slightly nasal and could have been grating and irritating, coming from someone like Tuff or Snot, but it seemed to suit this guy. Astrid couldn't help but notice his arms waving as he spoke as if they had minds of their own, and that he seemed to lean very slightly to his right.

“I was hoping I could, y'know, exchange it for one that _does_ work? I have my receipt, if that helps.”

“It's no problem; if you want to just grab a replacement and I'll put it through.” Astrid smiled, taking the receipt and bottle, ignoring Ruff's giggle.

In all honesty, she'd assumed it was some sort of hair gel – after all, no one's hair could naturally look so artfully tousled, so Astrid began scanning barcodes as Tall, Lean and Leather-clad headed off to pick up a replacement – and he was barely out of earshot when Ruff's sniggering increased in volume as she sing-songingly crowed, “Astrid's got a cru-ush!”

“I do _not_ have a crush!” Astrid retorted, the obvious blush staining her cheeks a glaring contradiction.

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

“Do not!”

“Do so!”

“Do so, what?”

Astrid started, looking up in horror at the freckled visage and vivid green eyes of her favourite (shut up, Ruff) customer. “Nothing,” she answered hurriedly, “It's nothing. She's just being stupid.”

“Am not,” came the muttered response, childishly, from somewhere behind her, followed by “you are so, stupid”, and then some muffled squabbling as Tuff appeared at the desk, apparently bored of bowling watermelons down the near-empty aisles.

“I'll, uh, just get this sorted for you,” Astrid said, ignoring the petty argument that had now descended into “am not/are so” and scanning the new bottle.

“I don't mean to... I mean... I... Uhh...” Tall, Lean and Leather-clad rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. He had no right to look so damn adorable. “Look, I don't want to get home and find out this one won't work either, and then have to come back again...”

He really was ridiculously cute up close, Astrid decided, as he shuffled his feet, always seeming to put more weight on his right. Still handsome and very sexy, yes, but also a dorky sort of cute.

“So I was wondering if maybe you could test it? Just to check?”

He had a gap-toothed grin plastered to his face (really, _unbelievably_ cute), and Astrid couldn't help but smile back. She unwrapped the plastic from the top and turned it until the lid clicked. Pressing down on it, a little blob of clear gel squeezed out onto her slightly cupped palm, and so she clicked it back into the 'off' position and handed it triumphantly over.

At the very least, he couldn't now suddenly morph into one of those Hellbeast customers who would try, once again, to claim it faulty for a refund. She had _proof_. And witnesses. Sort of.

Ruff was still cackling madly and when Tuff asked what had happened, she muttered to her twin – who then immediately cracked up. Astrid, however, shook her head and slid the new receipt and a pen over to Tall, Lean and Leather-clad.

“I just need your signature on the line.”

It should have been illegal how those long, nimble fingers gripped the black ballpoint – a leftie, she noted. For some reason, and she was now mentally berating herself for it, she was creating a weird catalogue of his every trait and characteristic in her head. He scribbled down an unfortunately illegible name. Damn. She'd hoped to finally be able to call him something _other_ than 'Tall, Lean and Leather-clad'.

With another winsome smile – she was _not_ swooning, Astrid Hofferson did _not_ swoon – he grabbed his purchase with muttered thanks.

“You're welcome.” Her face was burning and she could only hope she wasn't blushing as he turned and left.

Then she rounded on the twins, who were now in such hysterics that they were practically rolling on the floor.

“Yes! I know! _'Astrid's got a crush'!_ ” she growled, finally sick of their antics.

“No... No, it's...” Ruff was gasping for breath and clutching her sides as Tuff wiped a tear from his eye. “It's...”

She broke off, renewed guffaws leaving her able only to gesture wildly at the little red bottle abandoned on the counter.

Just exactly why the twins – not exactly famed for their maturity at the best of times (cough-watermelon bowling-cough) – were so entertained became abundantly clear when she picked up the seemingly innocuous object.

Lube.

Sexual lubricant.

… And he'd made her put it on her _hand_.

She knew she shouldn't. She knew she could lose her job. But in that instant, the culmination of tiredness, stress, frustration, and shitty customers had Astrid so furious that she was marching past the twins; past a bemused Snotlout; past Gordon, her manager; out of the store, and then hurling the offending item at Tall, Lean and Leather-clad's head.

 _God_ , she'd found him _attractive_.

He whirled around the second the hard plastic made contact with his skull and found her face inches from his.

“You think this is _funny_? Is this some kind of a _joke_ to you?”

She didn't care that everyone within hearing range was staring; that she was close enough that she could join the freckles scattered across his nose into little constellations; that he didn't stink of cigarette smoke like that first, ill-informed impression had led her to believe, but instead smelled of soap and motor oil and peppermint toothpaste. She didn't care.

“I am _not_ here as some kind of entertainment for spoiled rich kids in fancy designer clothes with brand new motorcycles. I'm not here for you to mess with just because you got _bored_. I _work_ to pay off my student loans and my tuition because _some_ people don't get everything handed to them on a silver platter paid for with daddy's money. What the _fuck_ is wrong with you‽”

In the brief moment she'd taken to draw breath before continuing the tirade of pent-up fury, he had raised his hands in surrender – but with an infuriating smirk on his face.

“Okay, first, I built that bike from the ground up, and I've had the same crappy jeans and t-shirts for the past five years. Bought from over there, actually.” He gestured to the clothing department, visible from where they were standing, but the action did nothing to placate her – she remained red-faced and utterly livid. He leaned more to his right and raised his left knee, knocking slightly on the shin.

The hollow, metallic sound made Astrid wince.

“ _That's_ 'what's wrong with me',” he continued, bitterness clouding his voice, “And as for my– dad!”

All irritability was gone and replaced by a deer-in-the-headlights look as he spotted someone, approaching the pair, from over her shoulder.

“Evening, son,” a deep, loud, and horrifyingly familiar voice issued jovially from behind her, and she turned as if in slow motion to find none other than Stewart Haddock.

Oh, God, she'd just been screaming at the crippled son of her boss – the man who owned her workplace.

She was dead.

“Hi! Dad! Hi, dad! Hi!”

Tall, Lean and Leather-clad _Haddock_ had to be Henry, the 'lad' Gordon often mentioned.

Still, in her mortification, Astrid couldn't help but notice the way he kicked the projectile bottle out of sight behind him, and subtly shift the one still clutched in his hand into his pocket.

_Hmm..._

“I see you've met one of my best workers,” Stewart was steamrollering on, not seeing his son's furtive behaviour or his employee's scrutinising look at it. “Henry, Astrid; Astrid, Henry.”

 _Henry_ stuck out his now-empty left hand and Astrid was unable to help the vindictive smirk that crossed her lips as, ensuring he could see the glistening, translucent gel still present on her palm, she grasped his hand and shook. At least he had the decency to look a _little_ guilty – though that may have had more to do with his father's imposing presence that anything else.

“Everyone calls me Hiccup; it's a nickname that stuck from when I was a kid.” Then, he looked to the red-bearded face almost a foot above him. “I, uh, didn't realise you'd be _here_ tonight, dad... I thought you were meant to be out at Raven's Point.”

“I would have been, but your uncle was sick and no one else was available at such short notice. They'll manage without me for one night – it's always busier here than it is there.”

Hiccup nodded, shifting from foot to foot again. It was clearly a nervous tic from embarrassment at hiding his purchase.

“Well, the boys in the warehouse need a hand,” Stewart finally announced, clearly eager to avoid the tense silence, “Best get to it.”

He turned on his heel and headed back into the shop, and Hiccup visibly deflated in a sigh of relief. Astrid, on the other hand, was still in silent shock.

“Why... _Why_ didn't you...” She gestured in the direction his father had gone.

“Same reason _you_ didn't, I suppose,” Hiccup replied, “You'd lose your job and... Well...”

“He'd know what you'd been buying?” Astrid asked, snark and teasing smirk back in place after being so suddenly shaken from her.

“Hey! It's not... I'm not...”

He stuttered and stammered, and Astrid was back to that old assessment of him: completely adorable. He might have been an odd combination arrogant, gawky, and charming; but now that he'd been faced with his father – and a thoroughly irate Hofferson – whilst a bottle of lube was hidden in his jacket pocket, he was back to tripping over his words like an awkward teenager.

“That's not _all_ you can... do with it,” he insisted, reddening. “It works as a frizz tamer, or a moisturiser, or you can use it for... for shaving –”

Obviously embarrassed, the words tumbled thick and fast from his mouth.

“– A-and if you put it on the hull of a boat it cuts down drag, and it lubricates mechanical joints like...” He shook his left foot slightly as his cheeks grew steadily more crimson. “Or it shines and protects leather, and –”

Deciding to put him out of his misery, Astrid clapped a hand over Hiccup's mouth.

“ _And_ while I'm _sure_ you've got a long list of alternative uses, it still doesn't change the fact that you bought it for sex.”

He spluttered indignantly, which was laughably cute with his scarlet cheeks and ruffled hair.

“How... How could you _possibly_... I... I'm not... I don't... H- _how_?”

Slyly smirking, Astrid gestured to the poorly hidden bottle that had skittered a mere foot away from them.

“You bought the one that warms up when you rub it.”

“I, uh... My hair gets cold?” He grinned lopsidedly, shrugging as he rubbed the back of his neck.

She couldn't help it: Astrid felt a giggle bubble up from her chest and soon the two were laughing uproariously, clutching at each other to remain upright. It really was the most brilliantly, ill-conceived excuse imaginable – right up there with “I was naked and accidentally fell on it”.

“You know,” she said, sobering slightly but still with a smile on her face, “I'm sure your dad won't mind. I mean, Gordon's his best friend and _he's_ gay.”

“Uh... What? What does being...? Wait. You think _I'm..._? No. No, I'm not! I... Girls just don't really...”

The bitter tone was back, his brow furrowed and his lips downturned as he looked accusingly at his leg.

“Girls don't tend to get turned on by... _that_.”

“Oh.” There was really nothing else she could say in response.

She's spent weeks staring after him, confiding – if a little unwisely – in Ruff about her secret crush. She'd thought he was gorgeous, yes, and had expected he would have an equally stunning girlfriend somewhere, but in the few minutes she'd spent talking to him, she'd found him to be smart, a little dorky, and funny with his sarcastic, self-deprecating wit. Missing leg or no, she couldn't understand why anyone _wouldn't_ want him.

Hell, if those other girls didn't, it just left him free for her!

“So... You use it to –”

“Please don't say it.”

“– jerk off?!”

“ _Oh_ , you said it. You said it. Why did you have to say it?”

His voice had risen to a resigned whine and he looked at her with pleading eyes.

Adorable.

“You know lotion would be less embarrassing, right?” Astrid asked, thoroughly enjoying his discomfort, “And nowhere near as conspicuous. I mean, there are _loads_ of metrosexual guys that buy lotions and things.”

“I think I liked it better when you were yelling...”

“That could be arranged... But, y'know... For what it's worth? Those other girls are idiots.”

He managed a half-smile. “Then do you think, maybe...?”

Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by Ruff bellowing that Astrid had a customer and to 'leave your hottie alone'. It was Astrid's turn to blush furiously as she ducked down to collect the returned bottle and then began walking back inside.

Halfway there, she turned.

“Seven o'clock,” she said decisively, looking directly into his eyes, before pivoting and continuing on her way.

“Seven o' –” Hiccup chased after her, catching her arm. “Seven o'clock, what?”

“You can pick me up. I live just down the street, number twenty. Seven o'clock, tomorrow, Haddock. Don't you dare be late.”

And with a wink, she was gone, smiling at her customer and asking, “what can I help you with, ma'am?”

Hiccup grinned.

*** *** ***

Less than a month, they'd lasted, before falling into bed together. It was inevitable.

Between Hiccup's several-years-long dry spell, and Astrid's not-inconsiderable time spend staring at – and imagining – him, it was actually quite impressive that it had taken more than a week.

But all things come to an end; in this case when he'd let slip that she had featured in more than a few of his somewhat illicit fantasies during the time before his ill-fated customer service experience.

That was when she'd jumped him – and neither had left the bed all weekend, save to eat, since.

“You know,” Astrid had begun as they lay, tangled and sweaty and both bearing dopey grins after round I've-lost-count, looking up at her boyfriend as she trailed her fingers absently over his chest, “There's a three-for-two sale at the moment on lubr–”

The rest of her teasing comment was cut short by her shriek of laughter as a suddenly not-so-sleepy Hiccup dug his fingers into her sides and tickled mercilessly.

“Don't tempt me,” he growled jokingly over her helpless squeals.

The heated look that followed had the little black cat – who had just entered the room in search of someone to annoy for food – rolling his luminous green eyes, well, if cats _could_ roll their eyes.

It looked like he'd have to wait for his dinner. Again.

Flicking the stump of his tail in annoyance, Toothless turned and padded back out to scratch the sofa in revenge.

_Ridiculous humans._

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone wondering, the guy actually came back - and my colleague hid under the desk until he'd passed by! Everything until Astrid chased after Hiccup is almost exactly what happened. Of course, she'd never seen the guy before then and there wasn't anyone bowling watermelons, but being laughed at by the people in the kiosk and the "can you test it" is all true!
> 
> Originally the title was to be 'Social Lubricant' but, like I said, that would've given it away too soon.


End file.
